Ground That Drinks the Rain.

But ground that drinks the rain which often falls upon it

and brings forth vegetation useful to those for whose sake it is also tilled,

receives a blessing from God.

Hebrews 6:7 NAS

As I write, raindrops are pinging off the window, making a soggy mess of the front yard. The ground is prepping for the warmth of spring, to welcome new seed for fresh growth. In spring, this incessant rain will yield a lawn with plush green grass, cheery pink Dogwood blossoms, and smiling white and purple periwinkles to adorn the planters at my front porch.

Throughout the year, where well-tilled earth drinks in the rain, a gardener can look forward to a harvest from seed-bearing plants.

Unless the ground refuses to drink, burdened by the rain that falls upon it.

Then what?

No vegetation. Thorns, thistles. No color… multitudes of weeds being the exception. Those things always drink the rain, littering my lawn with mismatched patches of gangly growth. Some of them even pass off for pretty with tiny bits of color.

But back to the ground…

If, like me, the ground had a choice and refused to swallow, stitching lips shut like a petulant child, it would result in hard, parched earth. A fruitless and colorless landscape. Nothing for its limbs to bear for the good of both the ground and the gardener.

As if a tilled heart hasn’t endured enough, God sends rain in the form of difficulty, heartache, or seasons of great suffering. And He knows where, how much, and how often rain is needed.

If He brings the likes of an incessant downpour into my life and I refuse to drink the rain of difficulty, I forfeit a fruitful life and am of little use to anyone.

Worse, I forfeit God’s blessing. A far greater loss than missing out on that spring department store sale.